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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410377">Screaming Bench</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablynothumanish/pseuds/probablynothumanish'>probablynothumanish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Crying, DSMP, Depression, Dream Smp, Exile, Gen, One Shot, Sad, Screaming, Your Tubbo Compass, bench, this is my first thing ive written for the dsmp fandom, tommy's exile, tubbench</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:07:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablynothumanish/pseuds/probablynothumanish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody showed up to Tommy's beach party, and that was the last straw.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Screaming Bench</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Day 7 of exile.<br/>
Or maybe it was 10?<br/>
14?<br/>
Fuck, Tommy had forgotten a while ago how long it had been since he had seen anyone who wasn’t his tormenter. Ghostbur didn’t even show up too much anymore.<br/>
Seeing the giant monument to a friend who couldn’t even be bothered to stop in and say hello definitely didn’t do much to improve his mood. He should have seen this coming, in retrospect. Tubbo had been the one who’d decided to exile him, even after it had been decided otherwise. Tommy had retained some semblance of hope that his friend would come see him, or the little village he had made for himself.<br/>
But seeing as no one but Dream - the stupid motherfucker - had bothered to show up to his beach party that he had spent hours working on, to make everything perfect, that he had been so excited for, that he had made sure to invite everyone to, Tommy had to admit to himself that nobody cared.<br/>
Nobody cared what happened to him except for Dream, and he only cared about making his life a living hell. Taunting him by showing up day after day, destroying his armor and weapons.<br/>
He needed a way to let out his feelings, and he only knew two ways of doing that: violence, or screaming. He couldn’t very well do much in terms of violence, seeing as it was daytime, and there were no mobs around, and the only person who ever came around was Dream, and he didn’t stand a chance against him in a 1-v-1 fight. So screaming it was.<br/>
He built himself a bridge out a few meters into the ocean, away from everything he had built so far, to keep it separate from his home. And he stared into the openness, his eyes fixing on the setting sun - the same setting sun he had watched all those months ago with Tubbo… his Tubbo - and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let out the feelings that were twisting up his insides in a painful knot. Aching inside his chest and causing a tightness in his throat that he couldn’t quite explain, didn’t even understand.<br/>
He wanted so much to be back on that bench overlooking L’manburg with Tubbo, talking over what happened that day, what their plans were for the future of their nation. It really was their nation at one point, wasn’t it? Tommy wanted more than anything to believe that it was, but he found himself doubting that he had ever had any claim on it at all. If it was so easy to tear him from it, did he really belong there at all?<br/>
“I’ll make a better bench,” he murmured to himself. That was the only person he had to talk to around here anyways anymore. “I don’t need that fucking… happy place.”<br/>
He placed down the materials for the bench in no time, and holding the compass Ghostbur had so thoughtfully made for him, Tommy sat. He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top of them, and fiddled with the very edge of the compass, turning the tool over in his hands and tracing the path of the needle as he moved the tool and it shifted to forever point to his home.<br/>
A home he could never return to.<br/>
A Tubbo he could never see again.<br/>
A friend he didn’t think he had anymore.<br/>
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before the painful aching in his chest bubbled up and filled his entire being, and he threw the compass into the ocean with all his might, watching the bubbles rise as it rank to the bottom of the ocean. He let out one shuddering breath before everything crumbled around him.<br/>
Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he grabbed hold of his hair, curling in on himself. Pain shot through his entire being as a screaming sob tore its way through him. His throat burned, and his muscles cramped from being so tensed, but he didn’t care.<br/>
He was never going home.<br/>
He was never seeing his friends anymore.<br/>
He didn’t even have any friends anymore.<br/>
Tommy had no friends.<br/>
No home.<br/>
No back.<br/>
No hope.<br/>
No… nothing.<br/>
Tommy had nothing.<br/>
He had…<br/>
Nothing…</p>
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